


We Dare Speak

by Siria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No, dude, no, no, no," Stiles said, pressing his phone into Derek's hands with clumsy urgency. "If it's going to be a dare, we need visual proof. No takesie-backsies."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Dare Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amberlynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberlynne/gifts).



> A gift for Amber, who finds [this set of gifs](http://zambonirider.tumblr.com/post/125280905712/cast-wishes-granted-linden-dares-dylan-obrien) very inspirational. Thanks to Sheafrotherdon for reading over this for me.

"No, dude, no, no, no," Stiles said, pressing his phone into Derek's hands with clumsy urgency. "If it's going to be a dare, we need visual proof. No takesie-backsies."

Derek raised an eyebrow, but took the phone; it was already recording. "I don't know that it was an _actual_ dare." Because he'd been working on his tact, he didn't bring up the fact that Stiles had said 'takesie-backsies.' 

"Nuh uh," Stiles said, slithering down to sit opposite Derek, his back to the porch railings. There was a flush riding high on his cheekbones, and between the late July heat and the dancing, his t-shirt was damp around the neck. " _You_ said 'Stiles, I'm pretty sure you've said it like once a minute since we came out here' and _I_ said 'Nuh uh, _nope_ ' and _you_ said—"

"Stiles—"

"No, no, what you actually said was you were, like, positive, statistically speaking and so I was like, that is a challenge, good sir, I can totally be a statistical disruption—"

"Scott should have cut you off three beers ago."

"Scott is an excellent bro who tends to all my needs except those in the boyfriend department," Stiles said solemnly, "but do not distract me, you sexy fiend. Sixty seconds, starting now."

"Sure," Derek agreed readily, though he had no intention of actually timing anyone. 

Apart from the chirping of crickets and the soft music that filtered out from the living room, there was silence on the porch for, oh, a good fifteen seconds or so. Derek watched as Stiles' face contorted into a series of ever stranger expressions—lips pressing together, cheeks working, as if he were trying to hold back laughter as much as words—each of them easier to read than the last. How Stiles had been able to successfully double-cross a sea witch only last week, Derek had no idea. 

Stiles chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then said, "Okay, can I check the rules on something?"

Derek sighed. "The rules on the non-existent challenge that you invented? Those rules? Sure."

Stiles squinted. "Does it count if I kiss you instead?"

Derek bit back a laugh, and surreptitiously zoomed the phone camera in closer on Stiles' face. "Why, you think you can make a kiss say 'I love you'?"

" _That's_ totally a kiss challenge!" Stiles crowed loudly and threw his arms up over his head with every sign of glee. "Best kind of challenge that's not a sex challenge!"

Lydia chose that moment to appear in the front doorway. She carried her heels in one hand and a glass of something that smelled very strongly alcoholic in the other. "Boys, is there a reason for the shouting? Because it's Kira's turn at charades and you're interrupting a pretty epic round."

It was testimony to how much they'd all grown up over the last few years, Derek thought—that was nowhere near as snide as he knew Lydia could be when she put her mind to it. She hadn't even protested that much when she'd arrived and found that the catering was nothing fancier than box wine and take out.

"Lyds," Stiles said, his arms still curled up over his head. The t-shirt fabric pulled against his biceps, and Derek found himself documenting that interesting phenomenon with the phone instead. "Lyds, Lydia, Lyddie. Derek thinks that I couldn't not say that I love him when he said that I can't say I love him even though I could totally say it with my mouth and he doesn't believe that. Which is ridic, right? _Right_?"

Lydia sighed and called over her shoulder, "Who gave Stiles tequila? You know what he's like when he's had tequila," before retreating back into the house, the screen door swinging shut behind her. 

Derek knew exactly how Stiles got when he'd had tequila—it was one of the main reasons why Stiles' and Scott's college graduation party had been so memorable, and why the Sheriff rolled his eyes whenever it was mentioned—but got a quick reminder when he found himself with a lapful of Stiles as soon as the door closed. The force of it was enough to make Derek drop the phone, while force of habit had him wrapping his arms around Stiles. 

"See?" Stiles said, now sounding a little sleepy and a lot smug. He rested his head on Derek's shoulder, his knees snugged tight against Derek's sides. It was the kind of embrace that Derek liked best: secure and whole-hearted, Stiles warm and solid against him. "Can totally say it like this. Non-verbal communication for the win."

"Hrm," Derek replied. He closed his eyes, focusing instead on Stiles' scent—alcohol and nachos and sweat mostly, but below that were the lingering scents of aftershave and soap, of a whole day spent together getting ready for their housewarming party. If he concentrated hard enough, Derek even thought he could make out something of the Preserve in the base notes—leaves and loam and wild things—though that might have been wishful thinking. They'd been living in the rebuilt house less than a week. "Don't know, you might have to speak up."

Stiles hummed, then shifted his head just enough so that he could kiss his way along Derek's jawline—soft, gentle presses of his lips that had something aching in Derek's chest regardless. Derek kept his eyes closed as Stiles sat up, moving to kiss Derek's chin and the tip of his nose. "Steady," Stiles mumbled when he brought one hand up to cup Derek's cheek, tilting Derek's face upwards for closer inspection. With his thumb rubbing forward and back against Derek's beard, Stiles kissed the corners of Derek's still-closed eyes and his cheeks and the arch of his cheekbones, the space between his eyebrows and along his brow. Stiles took his time with each and every kiss, and by the time he pressed a last, lingering one to Derek's mouth, Derek's cheeks were hot. His hands felt heavy and clumsy where they rested on Stiles' back. 

Derek wasn't hard, not yet, but he felt achingly aware of Stiles's body next to his. It wasn't an unusual feeling, in and of itself—even before they'd gotten together, Derek had known what it meant, that Stiles' heartbeat was the one he could pick out of a crowd. He'd known what it was, that his body oriented itself towards Stiles, that Stiles made him feel off-balance in all the best ways. But this was the first time that he'd felt the marrow-deep certainty that he was going to get to keep this; that Stiles wasn't going to leave him. 

"See?" Stiles said, pulling back a little. 

Derek opened his eyes and the look on Stiles' face had him smiling, helpless. "Hi," he said.

Stiles patted him clumsily on the arm. "Told you! But it's okay, I will give you like, your manly werewolfy pride and such and say the challenge will expire in the morning because then you can catch me out and then"—he broke off for a moment and yawned enormously—"but like, regardless, there's a nice new floofy bed upstairs. We're going to have all the morning sex, man. So much sex, no pants involved even a little bit. We can even do that thing you liked in Reno."

"Oh my god, dude!" Scott yelled from inside the house. "Overshare much?"

Stiles opened his mouth to yell back but Derek surged up and kissed him, fierce and almost frantic—and then, because there was nothing stopping him at all, Derek said, "I love you, too."


End file.
